Static
by AnotherGenericNerd
Summary: Mentally Ill!Reader leaves just a few apartments down from the skeleton brothers- one of which wants to help. (ratings may go up)
1. Chapter 1

Who's ready for some mentally-ill reader meets Undertale?!

Drown me I need to stop

hahaha. I refuse to be ashamed. Or acknowledge that I am.

Having an apartment was insufferable. A constant need to retain a certain volume, a distinct lack of privacy, a social environment…

All things that didn't agree with you.

You weren't sociable, and you weren't 'out there'. You liked your privacy and you tried not to see other people if you could avoid it. You weren't very loud, it wasn't like you had a roommate to talk to; but knowing there was a limit was stressful by itself.

You didn't have enough money to move out to your own place, or even one with thicker walls. Working as a librarian was fairly basic pay, but it wasn't like you weren't making thousands a week.

It was enough for a fairly nice building. You felt you should probably be content with that, but hell, who were you kidding?

You sighed loudly, ignoring the audible flutter in your breathing. You weren't sure you were ever going to be content.

That was alright. This was alright.

Sighing again, this time out through your nose you slumped where you had been standing. The floorboards were cool against your calves but you barely noticed.

Slouched on the floor, you closed your eyes and breathed. Your palms pressed flush against the floor, you simply waited. A few times you forgot to breathe and stopped, but always remembered to start again before your lungs started to ache.

God, you were tired.

It took you a few seconds to get back up, and another handful to stumble slowly towards your desk. When you glanced at your clock, it looked hours forward- but you could never be sure. You didn't look when you fell, after all.

The chair creaked under you but you didn't have the energy to wince as the sound grated on your ears. Your eyes felt heavy in their sockets. Maybe…. You set your eyes slowly and tried to numb yourself into darkness.


	2. can't stay inside forever

:)))

You can't tell but I typed that really slowly to show how done I am

* * *

Deja Vu was funny, except that it wasn't.

You think the clock had a different set of numbers.

You didn't feel too much better when you think you woke, but the feeling of gravity pinning you down had weakened enough for you to blink hazily. You think something might have been beeping. You didn't care.

Standing carefully, you maneuvered your way to the door. You allowed your mind to blank out as you went through the motions of opening and closing the door, focusing only a little to attempt to stop your hand from shaking too much when you tried to lock the door.

Walking was okay, sometimes. Distracting. The echoes of your footsteps layered over and over and over, until the noise in your head went from whispers to simply static.

The static made your head hurt, a throbbing heat under your skin, but it was better than words.

The library was quiet when you walked in for your shift. Your boss peeked her head out of the back room as the front door slid open, smiling gently when she saw you. You think your hand might have twitched in her direction. You looked up a little, tried a smile.

It didn't work, your lips felt like lead. But she grinned with almost all her teeth and you maybe walked a fraction lighter.

Your footsteps didn't matter in the library. You kind of wish you could have chosen your job somewhere else, somewhere… quieter.

You weren't even supposed to have a job. Everyone you had left had opposed the idea- but...

Idle hands were a dangerous thing, when they weren't too heavy to move.

No one spoke in the library, but there were so many words it couldn't be silent. You used to love books. Now you weren't so sure you could handle opening one, looking at one.

Reading only added more voices to the static in your head. A crowd of words and sentences and the screaming. You didn't hear voices. You remembered them. Every word you read wouldnt be absorbed- just left to spin in your skull over and over and over. A glitching echo that got louder and louder until you were deaf with them. So many you couldn't just walk it off.

You gave up trying. You barely left your apartment anymore. The words were so heavy inside you, lead bullets in your lungs and metal grating the inside of your skull. They pressed down your tongue until you couldn't speak, pushed it back till you couldn't breathe.

You needed to stop, stop thinking about it. Things were getting fuzzy.

You were always slow to work. But all you did was tidy up, organize the books, return displaced ones to their spots, reorganize, and-

"Excuse me, do you know where to find books on snails?"

Help customers.

Normally you didn't have to- the few that came during the night came to cram study or do last minute returns and check outs. Usually your boss, Ms. Wendith sent someone else over.

It was hard to help when you couldn't speak.

Slowly, you turned to look at the… the skeleton?

A fraction quicker, your eyes twitched a little wider. A startled inhale scratched your throat and you coughed once, weakly; your hand attempting on reflex to cover your mouth but not making it.

A tiny tinge of embarrassment colored some of the rising static in the back of your mind. Tilting your chin down a little to see the skeleton better, you blinked once, slowly. His grin looked a bit strained on his face. There was a human child next to him, looking up at you in a bit of a what you think what be a worried fashion.

Fixing your face back into your normal expression, you turned your wrist over and tapped at the ink smeared there. The white lights(pupils?) in his sockets flicked down to the writing and his brow furrowed as much as it could. "Uh, Where are the books on snails? Kid needs it for school, forgot to grab one earlier," He explained, squinting at your smudged writing of _"Sorry, can you repeat that?"_

You managed a nod, to your surprise. A flash of pride made your lips twitch a little and you turned towards the informational shelves, scuffing your feet soundlessly on the rug. Your eyes pinned onto a book titled _"_ The shell and it's inhabitants" before you even reached the shelf. Your finger shook a little as you placed your finger on it's spine, tilting it out for the child to stretch and grab themselves.

They smiled brightly at you and gave you a thumbs up. A little part of you, somewhere, melted.

You managed a sort of smile and patted the books cover once before flipping your hand back to your palm and tugging your sleeve up. The child narrowed their eyes at the words, mouthing along to the words slowly before their eyes lit up and they handed the book off before showing you a series of hand symbols.

You frowned slightly. You didn't know any sign language. Somehow, the child seemed to convey that and pouted but quickly brightened back up. It surprised you when they patted you on the hand, almost reassuringly, before they waved and ran off, dragging the skeleton behind them towards the checkout.

You relaxed a little, relieved.

 _'I'm... glad that's over.'_

Your own voice in your head had you jerking up in surprised, shuddering once, _violently_. You stumbled backwards a step and grit your teeth lightly when you tripped over your own ankle, narrowing missing clipping your head on the shelf behind you.

You didn't care that your back hurt. You didn't even notice. You stared at your hands in shock, eyeing the lines there, trying to breathe.

Was your mind really so quiet?

* * *

No, "The shell and its inhabitants" is not a real book.

unless it is.

Don't sue me


	3. Chapter 3

You went home early, followed by the scolding stare of your boss as she watched you cross the street. Your little episode had worried her, and she had near immediately sent you out with a reminder to not forget to take your medicine.

You reached home quickly, quicker than normal. Quicker than you had in a long, long time.

You felt like cotton was stuffed alongside your couldn't hear yourself think anymore. The static was louder than normal, all the voices screaming, reacting with volume to your frazzled emotions.

So loud that you couldn't hear the hum of the elevator, or the footsteps, or the rattle of bones.

A hand hovered over your shoulder, about to touch you; and you went rigid on reflex. There was a bit of an awkward silence. Then a slow breath.

"Look, buddy, get it. Not every human is… comfortable with monsters. I was just a little worried is all."

The skeleton. Why was the skeleton…? You didn't care. That didn't matter. You needed to- to-

"Pal? You alright? Seriously, are you okay?"

You could barely hear him. Your head was swimming. You were drowning in nothing and you needed to get inside. You needed to be anywhere but here.

A sharp ache told you you forgot to breathe again and you shook with your sudden inhale. It scratched your throat roughly and you barely caught yourself from taking your nails down your throat. A hand patted your shoulder awkwardly and you flinched.

"Too much," You think you may have mumbled. Every word ached with a weight you were choking on. You gave up,heavy fingers prodding at your Adam's apple. The skeleton looked confused, the little lights in his eyes following your fingers.

He voiced a little gasp that made him rattle when you dug your nails in, choking on your breath and trying to breath.

"Woah- woah! Hey, wait- that's-" phalanges dug into your skin and your breath hitched pathetically.

"Stop, stop," you found yourself muttering.

Startled, shocked into moving, your fingers scrambled for your keys. Pain laced through your knuckles.

A good distraction for both of you apparently. The skeleton rattled loudly as a bit of red splashed onto his cheek, sockets wide.

You took your chance.

You fumbled a little with the keys, the blood making your hold slippery but evertually you had the door swung open.

You were numb. Couldn't see or hear- you just moved.

The door slammed so loudly you snapped out of it.

Hyperventilating on the floor, you shuddered violently. Blood was staining the tiles. The keys had slashed open your knuckles pretty badly.

The lump on your throat rose again and you choked on it in a way you hadn't done in awhile.

Salt mixed into your wounds. You didn't care.

Pressing slimy, Crimson fingers tightly to your throat, you curled up and cried.


End file.
